You and I, full of sorrow, full of light
by hysteric
Summary: Mitchell succeeds in getting Annie back. What happens after that is completely up to them. That is, if they can see what everyone else does.


**Title:** You and I, full of sorrow, full of light  
**Fandom/Pairing:** Being Human, Mitchell/Annie  
**Rating:** R  
**Word Count:** 6,000  
**Genre:** Angst, Drama, Fluff, Romance  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything.  
**Warnings:** Sexy times.  
**Short Summary:** _Mitchell succeeds in getting Annie back. What happens after that is completely up to them. That is, if they can see what everyone else does._  
**Notes:**I started writing this in September of 2010 and then stopped. I do this a lot. Now that series 3 is about to end, I wanted to finish this. I'm so tired of the angst and the whole Mitchell and Annie not being able to be intimate stuff. I want happy times with fluff and loveliness. I feel like after wanting them together for so long, I deserve it, and so do you. So I finally finished this, and it's not a masterpiece, but it's good enough for me. I hope you enjoy it.

The journey is long and harder than he expects, but worth it when he finds her. She's there, surrounded by darkness and chains, _but she's there_. The obstacles are long gone now as he makes his way to her, kneeling before her, hands pulling the heavy metal from around her wrists. He can't stop staring, can't stop questioning if this is real, but those doubts do not stop him from lifting her up into his arms and carrying her away.

His arms hold her firmly, making it impossible for her to be stolen away again. The weight of her is a comfort through all of this, and when her curls tickle his nose as he lowers his face to kiss them, he wants to sob out his joy, his relief, and his triumph. He keeps quiet, though, choosing to focus on getting them out of this place, and it takes some time, but the light begins to appear. He follows that light, allowing it to guide him to a door.

Natural light touches them immediately after he has pushed the door open and then the loud sounds of life greet them. He doesn't bother to look around, doesn't care about anything but the silently still woman in his arms, and when he looks down, his arms tremble because he sees her, _really_sees her.

It comes as no surprise when he falls down onto his knees, but his arms do not let her go, though they still tremble just as violently. "Annie," he whispers and repeats her name once more.

It is then that she moves, turning her face up to his. Her brows furrow, and for one terrifying moment he believes she has forgotten him.

But then—

"_Mitchell_."

.

Annie doesn't speak again. Not when they arrive home. Not when George and Nina embrace her. She does not speak, and he grows worried. All she does is stare at nothing in particular and he wants to help, to make it better, to make her _Annie_once again.

Instead he takes her hand, since that's all he can think of to do. He leads her to his bedroom and shuts the door softly behind him once he's helped her onto the bed. For a moment he keeps his palm pressed to the door and closes his eyes, attempting to form a plan, or really, just the right words to say to her. Nothing comes, and he turns, setting his tired eyes upon her. She looks so cold, and so lost, and he wishes she would speak because he misses her voice.

"Sorry about the mess," he murmurs, gesturing around the small room to the clothes piled on the floor. She says nothing. As he runs his hand over his hair, he takes a deep breath and walks toward the bed, sitting down beside her at the edge. "Are you cold?" he asks and immediately realizes what a stupid question that was. The truth is that he's got no idea what he's doing, and anything that he actually _does_do to seems to be wrong.

They sit there for hours until night falls and he doesn't have a problem with it. He basks in her presence, in knowing that she is really here with him. It took him what felt like forever to get to her, and now he's got her, just like he promised he would. His relentless pursuit paid off, and even though she's broken, she's here. That's all that matters. This is where she belongs, with all of them.

A gentle knock on the door pulls him out of his heavy thoughts. He knows it's George before he answers, but as he opens the door, he nods.

"I just wanted to say goodnight," George whispers. "Nina's already gone to bed. It's been quite an eventful day…"

"Yeah," Mitchell agrees. It's awkwardly silent for a moment. Mitchell opens the door all the way and watches as George enters, his eyes on Annie.

"I'm so glad you're back, Annie," George says and gives her a small smile. "We're all so glad. We've all missed you… so very much. And now…" He trails off, scratches the back of his head and shrugs. He looks at Mitchell for help, but all he can do is shrug back at the werewolf.

"Tomorrow will be better," George says and then pats Mitchell on the shoulder as he leaves.

After Mitchell has closed the door once more, he sits down beside her again. He decides that since she hasn't said anything, he'll just say _everything_.

"I've missed you so much," he whispers. "Not a day has gone by that I haven't thought of you. There have been nights that I've spent thinking of ways that I could've done something differently. I could have saved you then. I could have tried harder at this, I could have been a better man. The things I've done… Annie, darlin', I've done such terrible things, but I would have repented every sin if it meant I got to keep you from being ripped from this world… from _us_."

He knows she's listening to him. She has to be. She has to hear him. "I felt you. When Kemp took you away, I felt you. I haven't even told George, and maybe I never will, but you were just gone and I felt that void. It was like someone had torn me in two, right down the center. And then there was nothing left but the knowledge that something was missing." He pauses, wondering if she can feel his gaze upon her. "It was you. You were gone, and I would have killed that bastard Kemp if it wasn't for George. I would have torn him apart, Annie, but George was right; you wouldn't have wanted that."

He can't take it any more. He can't take the silence in this room. Reaching out, he places his hand over hers. "Annie, _please_, say something," he begs. "Say anything. I need to know you're here, that you're as okay as you can be right now."

He's not aware of how much time passes after that, but he feels her fingers move, and then she's looking right at him with those beautiful eyes of hers that he's longed to gaze into and nothing else matters. She blinks a few times and purses her lips together, but then she speaks. She speaks and he shudders. "I knew you'd come for me," she says, keeping her eyes locked with his. "I knew, Mitchell. I waited… it was so dark, and so cold. Freezing. But I waited because I knew you would come for me."

Breath he doesn't need catches in his throat and he squeezes her hand. "I was always going to come for you," he says. "Always, Annie. I refused to stop until I got you back, and now you're here…"

"And I'm here," she interrupts. "I'm here, but I don't feel right. Mitchell, I don't know what it is that I feel. I was confused at first. You were all speaking to me and it sounded far away, like you were all miles and miles away, and I didn't know what to say. I still don't, so this may all sound crazy, but I'm a little crazy."

"You're just the right amount," he says, smiling, though he feels the burn of tears behind his eyes. He blinks, but can feel the wetness on his skin. As he moves to look away, Annie's hand is on his cheek and she's shaking her head at him.

"Don't hide," she says gently, wiping his skin. "You saved me, and I don't know how to begin to thank you."

"You're here, that's all I want and need," he says.

She doesn't answer with words, just smiles at him, and for a moment, she's his Annie again.

.

The days pass by faster now that Annie is back. They seem better. No, they _are_better. Now that Annie has returned, everything has fallen into place. Nina hovers, but that's Nina, and George is usually unsure of what to say, but Annie doesn't seem to mind. In fact, she seems to enjoy his befuddlement.

She spends most of her time with him, though, and Mitchell has no complaints. The months before Annie was taken away, he wasn't truly there, too busy being caught up in his own bullshit. Now none of that exists to create barriers between them and he welcomes it. She might not be the same, but she's still Annie, and that's all he needs. Just knowing she's here, and that she can smile once in a while and have a real laugh is amazing.

On this night, they're alone, George and Nina having gone out for a date or something of that nature. Annie is curled up on the small couch, book in hand while Mitchell sits at the other side with a cold cup of coffee. It's been ages since any of them have had tea, and even with Annie back, he can't bring himself to have any. It's just not the same unless it's coming from Annie.

"Are you bored?" Annie asks him. When he looks at her, he realizes that she's staring at him, an eyebrow quirked up and lips pouting at him.

"A bit," he admits.

"What must we do to cure your boredom, Mitchell?" she asks, closing her book.

"Don't know," he answers. "Maybe I'll go for a walk."

"Oh, no, the weather's terrible. It's going to rain!"

"Then what do you suggest?"

Annie smiles, places the book on the table beside her and moves over until their sides are touching. The smallest of contact gives him relief. "Shall we see what's on the telly?"

"It's a bit late for anything good to be on," he says, though he reaches for the remote anyway. Annie says nothing and rests her head on his shoulder as he flips through the channels. They eventually settle on an old movie, but through its entirety Mitchell pays attention to Annie instead. She feels right being this close to him, and inhaling her unique, sweet scent has such an effect on him that he's actually startled.

"Mitchell, are you listening to me?" Annie asks, bringing him out of his confused musings.

"Sorry, what?" he asks, smiling apologetically at her.

Annie huffs, but then smiles back at him. "I was saying that you're obviously not into this movie. And if you'd like, we could do something else."

Mitchell stares at her mouth as she speaks, suddenly very struck by the shape of them and the way they move. He blinks and his eyes flick up to hers. "Could we just sit here for a while?" he asks, suddenly feeling very out of his element. "I think I'd just like some quiet time with you. It's been so long…"

Annie stops him from trailing off and snuggles in close, taking his hand into hers. "Do you feel that?" she asks him.

"Yeah," he answers, squeezing her hand. "I feel it."

.

After that night, all Mitchell can think about is Annie, her scent, the feel of her. _He can feel her_. He can actually feel her, and it isn't like before. She's not just cold and… _squishy_. She's more solid than she has ever been and not as cold. In fact, she's close to being warm and Mitchell doesn't understand why all of this interests him so much. It does, though, and he swears he's going to go mad thinking about it this much.

It makes sense. He needs something else to obsess about now that he's succeeded in getting Annie back. The problem is that what he's obsessing about is borderline creepy. The way Annie's hair bounces when she laughs. The way her eyes crinkle when she gives him one of her now rare, true smiles. How she touches her cheek when she's deep in thought. What her body feels like when it's pressed to his as they cuddle on the couch, acting like they're so much more than what they actually are, which is _friends_.

"Stop it," he grumbles aloud. The fact that he's talking to himself now isn't a good sign that he's making any type of progress with this situation.

He definitely needs to take a walk. As he bounds down the stairs, he runs into Annie, which isn't surprising at all considering his life has become some sort of ridiculous sitcom in a very short amount of time.

"Mitchell!" Annie exclaims and places her hand on his shoulder. "I didn't see you!" Pausing, she furrows her brow. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Need some air," he answers as briskly as he can. His fingers fidget against the hem of his worn out sleeves as he tries to look at anything but the very pretty ghost standing before him.

"Oh," she says, making that sound like the saddest thing he has ever heard.

Mitchell sighs in defeat. "Would you like to come, Annie?" he asks tiredly. He looks at her then and she's smiling, truly smiling. His chest tightens at the sight of it.

"I'd love to," she says.

Arm in arm, they leave the house and Mitchell marvels at how Annie feels once more. This won't end well. Nothing ends well when he's part of it.

.

"You fancy Annie, don't you?" George asks one day out of the blue. Nina and Annie have gone out shopping since Annie is now visible once more and very excited about it. Mitchell sputters, spilling his beer as he knocks it over with his elbow and looks at George as if his friend has grown an extra head.

"Where the hell would you get that idea?" Mitchell asks, his voice rising in a way he doesn't like at all.

With a roll of his eyes, George squeezes the bridge of his nose with two fingers and sighs. "Nina and I were discussing it…"

"Oh, were you now?" Mitchell seethes. "How sweet. The two of you, gossiping about the most ridiculous…"

"Please, it's not ridiculous," George interrupts. "You basically stare at her whenever she's around like she's the most brilliant thing you've ever seen. And the way you're always finding excuses to touch her? Mitchell, it's obvious to everyone but you."

"Everyone?" Mitchell asks. "Everyone? Even Annie?"

"Ha! I knew it," George says gleefully. "You fancy Annie! This is wonderful. Do you know what this means?"

"What?" Mitchell asks weakly.

"Double dates! Do you know how normal those are?"

Mitchell tunes out George's plans as he thinks about what he's just admitted. He fancies Annie. Well, now that he's being honest with himself, he more than fancies Annie. It could never be that simple, not with her. And how could he not care for her? Annie is perfect. Annie is a dream.

Annie is too good for him.

.

Annie makes sure to hold his hand on their daily walk. Their fingers entwine effortlessly, as if they were meant to meld together in such a way. If his heart could beat, he knows it would be pounding against his chest. If he tries hard enough, he can almost feel it. _Almost_.

.

"Nina thinks I should try and date someone," Annie confides in him one night while they're sitting in the kitchen. They're across from one another and Annie taps her fingertips atop the wooden table as she surveys him and waits for an answer. He doesn't actually know what to say. What could he possibly say? That he thinks it's a great idea and that she should date _him_?

"Do you think I should try?" she prods. "Maybe I should. What could be the harm, really?"

He swallows, his throat suddenly parched although he's just finished drinking. "Do you really want that?" he asks hesitantly.

Annie shrugs. "I don't know. A part of me does. I miss that part of life. I miss having someone to hold, and to kiss." She sighs and closes her eyes. Mitchell thinks she's never looked more beautiful.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?" he blurts out quickly, the words all meshing together.

Annie's eyes fly open and she stares at him for what seems like hours. "Are you serious?" she asks incredulously. "Don't tease me, Mitchell."

"I'm not!" he insists. "Wouldn't it be… fun?"

Annie laughs. "But we're friends. It wouldn't be real."

"It could be," he whispers.

"Mitchell," she says, clearly startled. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

This isn't the right time for declarations and making a fool of himself. So Mitchell does what he does best, he laughs it off. "It'd be fun to go out, just the two of us. When's the last time we did that?"

Whatever Annie was thinking about seconds before seems to disappear as she relaxes and joins him in laughing. "You're right," she agrees. "I'd love to go out with you. It will be… yes, it will be very fun."

.

Annie's changed her top and her hair. She looks lovely and it takes more strength than Mitchell would like to admit to stop him from telling her then and there. It simply isn't the time, and a part of him thinks that it will never be that time. Annie takes his hand and all those thoughts disappear. It's impossible to think of much else but how good their hands feel, clasped together like this as they stroll through the busy streets and laugh about this and that.

"So, what is John Mitchell like on a date?" she asks him after they've decided on a pub. Mitchell orders her a drink despite her ghostly inability to drink it and then looks at her, grinning more than he'd like to. He's sure he looks a bit crazed.

"Very smooth, obviously," he answers. "And charming. As I always am."

Annie snorts.

"Hey! Very rude," he says. He straightens himself up then and raises an eyebrow. "What is Annie Sawyer like on a date then?"

"Brilliant," she tells him.

He believes it.

.

After, when they're home and laughing quietly in the living room about their date, Annie brushes her fingers through his hair and tilts her head from side to side as she looks at him.

"What?" he asks.

"Your hair is an absolute mess, Mitchell," she chides. "You should let me cut it one day."

"I'd rather not have you near me with scissors, love," he says.

"Excuse me, _love_, but I've cut hair before! I used to cut Owen's all the time."

Everything tenses after that and Annie isn't laughing anymore. The air around them is very awkward and he doesn't know what to do to fix that. Annie isn't looking at him, staring out at nothing in particular, and Mitchell doesn't like it at all. It reminds them of before, when he brought her back and she wasn't herself. He touches her shoulder and says her name softly.

"I've ruined our date," she whispers, finally looking at him again.

Mitchell shakes his head and pulls her close, his arms wrapping around her. "Impossible," he murmurs. "You couldn't ruin it if you tried."

She is tense in his embrace, and when she lifts her head to look at him again, her expression is one that he's never seen before. "Nina thinks I fancy you," she whispers.

It's as if all the air has been sucked out of the room.

"Annie—"

"No, let me finish," she says firmly. "Nina thinks I fancy you, and she's right. I'm such an idiot. I wanted this to be real. I wanted us to be a possibility but how stupid am I? As if we ever could be."

"Annie—"

"No, Mitchell," she interrupts again. "Please don't. I already feel stupid enough!" She's out of his arms then and moving toward the stairs, but he's faster and grabbing her arm, pulling her back. That's when he discovers that she's crying and he knows then, that this is it.

"Annie, I love you."

He doesn't wait for a reply. He doesn't need words. No, he moves in until his vision blurs and his mouth is claiming hers, lips moving against hers in a way that feels as if they've done this a thousand times. It's nothing like that almost kiss years ago. Annie is responding, her fingers twisting through his hair, and she is kissing him back fiercely. It's almost as if he is drowning in ice water, but he doesn't mind. He doesn't have to breathe, doesn't need to make his way back up. He wants to be here, drowning along with her. It's amazing.

"Mitchell," she breathes against his lips. He's kissing her again before she can say anything else.

.

After that night, they're inseparable. Every waking moment is spent together and Annie stays most nights while he sleeps. Waking up to her face and a cup of tea makes him happier than he ever thought he could be. That scares him, but not enough to end this. The thought of not being able to hold Annie, to kiss her is too unbearable to fathom. It's as if they've always been like this, and now he can't be without her.

.

They've officially been in a relationship for two months when Annie brings up the subject of sex. She's lying beside him on his bed, rubbing her hand up and down his chest as she stares at him expectantly, waiting for some kind of answer.

The truth is Mitchell doesn't exactly know how to respond.

He is a man. He has needs, and they're only magnified because he's a vampire. Blood and sex, sex and blood, it's what he craves. The thought of being that way with Annie, of allowing that monster to come out isn't something he desires, though he very much desires _her_. He'd be crazy not to.

"Annie, do you think we're ready for that?" he asks very carefully.

She frowns. "I know that I want to be with you in that way. Do you not want me?"

"Of course I want you," he says. "I want this, _us_. But I want us to go about it the right way. I don't want to mess this up."

She smiles then, very softly, and her eyes are just as soft. He can actually see how much he cares for him. "We could always… work our way toward it," she suggests.

He quirks an eyebrow and unconsciously rubs her leg. "And how would we do that?" he asks, suddenly very interested in the inner workings of Annie's mind.

"Well," she begins and kisses his jaw. "We could get rid of a few clothes," she says, kissing the spot right below his left ear. "We could… try heavy petting," she continues, her voice doing this breathy thing that makes his stomach clench. "And we could go from there," she finishes and nips at his neck. "Hmm?"

He has to swallow before he can speak. "I like those ideas," he whispers roughly.

"I was thinking we could skip the heavy petting, though," she whispers back, mouth pressed to his neck. His eyes have closed at some point during all of this, so when he reaches out blindly for her arm, he's surprised to feel her flesh instead of fabric. Confused, his eyes open and he realizes that the familiar grey cardigan has disappeared and she's simply in her leggings and white camisole. He licks his lips, wanting to see more of her skin, wanting to touch it, to drag his lips across it.

It's as if a bomb goes off the second their eyes meet. Their hands are everywhere, pulling at clothes, groping at each other as they kiss as much as they can. Annie's pulling at his belt while Mitchell is tugging at her leggings, surprised that he can get them off of her. He doesn't question it, doesn't need a reason to, and simply enjoys the sight and the feel of flesh he's never had the pleasure of acquainting himself with before.

Annie lies before him, her hair spread out, looking more beautiful than he thinks she ever has. He plays with the elastic band of her underwear and can't help smiling to himself when her body twitches.

"We should go slow," he tells her, sliding his fingertips beneath the band.

"Slow," Annie agrees.

"Very slow," he says and bends down to kiss the skin below her bellybutton. She squeezes his shoulders tight as he drags his lips down and pushes at her underwear. He only lifts to pull it down her legs and then he's back, doing what he's imagined many times before. Annie makes this keening sound that goes straight to his groin as he works his mouth and his tongue at her center. There are moments of clarity when he wonders if this is actually happening, but the feel of her and the taste of her are unlike anything he could have ever dreamt up.

And when she comes, pulling at his hair and crying out his name, all he wants to do is start this over so he can hear her say it exactly like that again.

.

It's natural that their intimate relationship progresses from there. Mitchell doesn't get much sleep any more, but he doesn't mind. He much prefers being with Annie in a plethora of ways into the early morning hours. Annie is enthusiastic about everything and he loves her that much more for it.

It's as if he's in a bubble of happiness, a very fragile bubble that can be popped at any time. There's a part of him that is waiting for it, but the bigger part of him doesn't focus on it as much. He's busy with Annie, and with being happy for the first time in decades. He's in love. Mitchell is in love with Annie. He loved her before, but now… now it's all consuming and exciting and terrifying and he never wants it to end. It exhausts him, but he could never wish it away.

He can hear Annie in the kitchen making tea now. She moves around, opening cabinets, clinking mugs together and it's so normal. It's so normal and welcome and Mitchell is up and out of the living room, making his way into the kitchen. Annie isn't facing him, and with a grin he wraps his arms around her waist.

"Miss me?" he murmurs into her neck.

"I've been in here for five minutes and you're asking me if I've missed you," she laughs. "You're impossible, Mitchell."

"I thought you liked that about me," he says as she turns in his arms.

"Sometimes I do," she agrees and cups his face. "And sometimes I think you need a little smack."

"If you're willing to give me one I doubt I'd mind," he says slyly.

"Mitchell!"

She wiggles, attempting to get out of his hold, but he refuses and only holds her tighter. "Mitchell, the tea," she warns, looking toward the kettle as it begins to whistle.

"Sod the tea," he says, leaning in to kiss her. She turns her face again and his mouth lands on her cheek, which causes him to groan in frustration. "Just one kiss and I'll let you go," he offers.

"One?" she asks, looking at him then. The expression she's sporting says that she doesn't believe him, and honestly, she shouldn't, because one kiss in never enough for him.

"One," he says with a nod.

"Fine," she huffs. "But only one, Mitchell!"

His lips are immediately on her and one kiss turns to two, then three, and then he loses count. The kettle's whistling becomes louder and Annie finally breaks away, smacks him on the chest and scowls until he lets her go.

"You should be flattered," he says, following her around the kitchen. Her back it to him once again as she bends over to pour the tea and he stares. How can he not? He is a man after all and Annie is very attractive. She's also annoyed with him which is most likely why she won't answer him. Carding a hand through his hair, he sighs and is behind her again, arms once more wrapped around her.

"Don't be upset," he says quietly. He takes it as a positive sign when she leans back against him and strokes his arms.

"I'm not upset," she says. "You're just very silly sometimes."

They both laugh and then Annie turns and looks at him for a moment before _she's_ kissing _him_. "Impossible," she mutters into a kiss.

"You love it," he insists, kissing her harder. Their kisses become more passionate and soon Mitchell is backing Annie up into the table and sliding his hands up the back of her shirt, stroking her cool skin. She moans into his mouth and bites his bottom lip, dragging it through her teeth as she leans away. He follows, refusing to stop now and buries his hands into her hair as he deepens another kiss.

This feels different. There's this frenzy between them and nothing seems to end it. Annie's hand snakes between them, pressing hard against the front of his jeans and his hips jerk forward as he groans. She stops, as does their kiss, and they look at each other for what feels like forever. There's heat between them, he can nearly taste it.

The moment ends and then they're attacking one another. Annie doesn't waste time unbuttoning his shirt; she simply tears it open instead, buttons flying everywhere. Apparently she's in no mood for waiting because her clothes disappear with her desire and Mitchell is touching as much of her flesh as he can while she works on getting his pants undone.

"Is this really happening?" he breathes out against her neck.

His jeans hit the floor, followed by his boxers.

Her hand wraps around him, the softness of her palm making him growl. He rocks forward with the rhythm she's started and can't lift from her neck. Well, he can't until she squeezes him and pulls firmly, which really gets his attention. He only looks at her for a moment before pushing her down onto the table. Mugs crash to the floor, along with everything else that was there, but he can't care. Annie's hands are on his back, nails scratching his skin and her legs are around his hips as he thrusts into her.

She's so warm around him, and they fit as if they were made for this and for each other. Annie's mouth seeks his and they kiss fiercely as they move, their hips meeting and bodies moving in perfect sync. Oh God, and the _sounds_Annie makes. Mitchell burns them all to memory, never wanting to forget. They keep moving, faster and faster, both wanting to reach that sweet release that they know they're guaranteed. He's in awe, never having known that it could be like this, that he could feel this. Annie's perfect, they're perfect together.

"I love you," he exhales, squeezing her hips tight. She shudders against him and grasps at his shoulders.

"I love you," she whispers quickly, sounding so out of breath that his entire body tenses. That doesn't stop him from crushing their mouths together. The table slams against the wall and creaks, but they continue on until Annie cries out and Mitchell swears he sees sparks when he joins her. He collapses onto her, unable and unwilling to move for a while. He can feel Annie stroking the back of his neck, playing with his hair and only lifts to grin at her.

"You look pleased," she says, grinning herself.

"So do you," he counters and kisses her nose.

She laughs, then looks around at the mess they've made, which after Mitchell has looked as well, realizes is actually quite big. Broken mugs litter the floor, as does a porcelain teapot that Annie is fond of. Annie's tea is also everywhere and when he looks back at her, she's frowning at him.

"I loved that tea set," she says.

"Annie—" he begins, but she disappears and he's left hovering over the table before he crashes onto it.

"Mitchell, why the hell are you naked in the kitchen!" George shrieks. As he looks up, he's greeted with the sight of a horrified George and Nina staring at him.

"I can explain," Mitchell says and stands, covering himself in an attempt to regain his dignity.

George shakes his head and covers Nina's eyes. "Honestly, is it so hard for everyone in this house to be normal!?" he exclaims and turns, pulling Nina along with him.

Mitchell stands there momentarily, surveying the mess and then sighs, reaches for his boxers and searches for a broom.

.

When George has _finally_finished lecturing him about the harms of sexual deviancy, Mitchell makes his way upstairs and into his room. He finds Annie sitting on his bed, clad only in her cardigan. He makes sure the door is locked before he even thinks about sitting down.

"I'm sorry," he says as he settles down beside her. "I'll buy you a new tea set," he promises.

She laughs softly and takes his hand into hers, threading their fingers together. "A better one?" she teases.

"The best," he says firmly and brings their hands up, kissing hers. "Do you forgive me?" he asks, the hope very obvious in his voice.

Annie laughs again and pulls him down with her, wrapping her arms around his neck as she shakes her head. "What do you think?" she asks and before he can say a word, she's kissing him.

All thoughts of tea sets and supposed sexual deviancy disappear as Mitchell loses himself in Annie, only to feel more found than ever before.


End file.
